Flight Canceled
by OakwoodOuroboros
Summary: Sequel to Tired and Emotional. He was supposedly taking the plane back, but the call Dipper receives comes too early; Wirt couldn't have flown from one side of the States to the other in so little time, couldn't be? It turns out that no, he couldn't.


_You asked for cheese, I'll give you cheese: here, to Chami, who spurred my imagination onward more than anyone ever with their lovely fanart (really, check it out, it's da bomb!). Thanks again so much to all those who have supported me and pushed me to write more for this story, and also just general supporters of Pinescone and my work (I'm not looking at anyone in particular when I say this... or am I?), without whom this fluffy mess of a fic wouldn't exist._

 _Also, to new readers, this is a sequel to my other fic 'Tired and Emotional', even though it can be (sorta) read as a standalone if you wish._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Day-5: Monday the 22nd of December 2014

Mabel had remained silent the whole trip back home, which was a bit of a surprise for their mom as well as Dipper himself, but when he glanced over to her he understood that it was for his sake. He must have looked really pitiful, shivering in the snow and watching the bus drive off into the night. He took the opportunity to wallow in misery while he still could, sometimes glancing up to Mabel, only to see her cheeks grow more and more puffed out and red, biting down on her lower lip to try and hold in the grin and squeal that would no doubt fill the house once they were sent off to bed.

And indeed, shortly after their mom directed them to the cold pasta dish sitting on the table, then -when they finished off their last few scraps- to the stairs and into their respective rooms, Mabel exploded into her brother's space, ignoring the 'Keep Out!' and 'Radioactive Waste Disposal Area' signs taped to his door.

"Sosososo… Is he gorgeous? Ravishing? Beautiful? Handsome?..."

Dipper sighed and pulled on his very faded Bad First Impressions shirt, ignoring her in favor of collapsing on his bed in a heap. It wasn't as comfortable as he expected it to be, and for a good reason, the quilt being covered in a patchwork of folders and journals and loose papers and writing equipment. He groaned, turning over onto his side, only to have the edge of a hardback book poke him in the ribs. He had hoped that he would be able to fall asleep as soon as he hit the bed, finding another escape from his sister's insistent demands, but he had to admit that between her eardrum-piercing giggles and his incredibly uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, there was very little chance of that happening in the near future.

"Mabel, please..."

"Oh no you won't, bro-bro! My twin super-sense only gives me a vague idea of what's going on on your end, none of the juicy details! Come on, just tell me if you held hands? Please? Pretty please for a pretty Mabel?"

She batted her lashes at him. Again, Dipper groaned and rolled over onto his other side, a compass grazing his arm as he did. Ouch.

"Tomorrow…"

There was a moment of silence, then the rustle of clothes.

"Fine, Dipping Dots, but you wait and see. You'll regret it; if you don't get it out of our system now, you'll be lying awake all night thinking of him. Been there, done that."

Then, finally, she turned heels and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, as she knew Dipper liked it to be. Not believing his luck, he lifted himself up on one elbow (crumpling some research as he did) and stared at the empty space where his sister had previously been, trying to work out the how and the why behind her disappearance. However, his brain was not happy with having to deal with yet more work, so it screeched to a halt, and Dipper had no choice other than to crawl under the covers, a place which was relatively stationery-free.

His eyelids closed without him even thinking about it, and he felt himself slowly sink into the mattress, his muscles relaxing one by one. It was when he was at the very limit between wakefulness and sleep that something completely unbidden came to mind, making his brain happily start up again without so much as a vague complaint. He cracked his eyelids open tiredly, just a little, hoping to dissolve the vague thought that was keeping him from sleep by replacing it with the sight of his surroundings. It didn't work. The room was dark except for the two red LED blips that were his plug multiplier and his gaming console, and they didn't illuminate much around them that could be a distraction from his thought process.

Anyway, the disturbing sensation wasn't just limited to his mind: his hand curled around nothing, searching for a lost touch that would be the only one that could let him fall into the peaceful slumber he currently craved. There was supposed to be something there, but it just wasn't. It was frustrating in the extreme.

No matter how much he burrowed into his pillow, there just wasn't the same softness there than what should have been; no matter how much he twisted and turned the covers around himself, they just weren't warm enough; no matter how much he tried to get comfortable, he couldn't. Something was missing, keeping his body awake and not letting him get any rest as long as the lack remained. After what he thought was maybe an hour of tossing and turning, Dipper tiredly relented and tried to make sense of what was keeping him awake, not fighting against it, instead trying to go with the flow of it.

It didn't take long for him to find the source of the discomfort and when he did he sat bolt upright in his bed, sending quite a bit of his research flying. Dipper sat there for several minutes, panting, trying to crush the panic and horror that held him by the throat.

Mabel had been right all along. He was lying awake thinking about Wirt.

He dragged himself out of bed, shaking a bit. Despite the lingering traces of that day's heating the floor was biting cold to his bare feet, and he had to fumble for a while in the dark for his flashlight so as not to step on a wayward thumb tack. He stumbled to his door, into the corridor, that he then crossed to get to his sister's bedroom. Before opening the door, he caught sight of a thin ray of light escaping from under it. She wasn't usually awake this late at night.

Dipper was about to lay a palm on the hand painted panels adorned with "Don't be shy! Come in!" and "Mabel's stuffed animal sanctuary" signs, when he hesitated, torn between the need to get some sleep and the absolute mortification that it would be to answer his sister's questions. After a while, he slowly brought his hand back down to his side and padded back to his bedroom as quietly as he could. This was something he could sort out himself, he was sure of it.

As could be expected, the next morning he sported the most impressive black bags under his eyes that had been seen in a long time in the Pines household. Dipper had also gotten up at the same time as his dad, something that only happened very rarely during the school holidays.

"You all right, son? Mabel's not up yet, I'll give you some coffee if you need it."

Dipper nodded weakly, pulling the mug close and taking small sips. Slowly, he emerged from his morning stupor, a little dazed. A dopey smile crept onto his features without him being aware of this, and his dad, looking up from the morning kid's cartoons, smiled to himself when he saw his expression. He didn't comment on it though. He knew well that Dipper wouldn't be able to speak about whatever this was until it was over or it had gotten serious.

"You're up awfully early. Got something on your mind?"

He caught him looking at his phone when he glanced back up from his shows again. Dipper fumbled for a few moments, pink dusting his cheekbones.

"J-just research."

"Right."

The teen got up and moved on to the living room, away from the person whom Mabel had probably inherited her weirdness from. For what seemed like the fortieth time that morning he pulled out his phone, checking for a text, a missed call, anything. It was automatic by now, and when he realized what he was doing, he shoved the device back into his vest's pocket.

This really is a desperate case, he thought to himself. The only person he had ever been this obsessed with was Wendy, and even to this day he would find himself yearning for her. She was better as a friend though, he now knew, once he had matured a little it had all fallen into place easily enough. This though… it was definitely different. For one, he was a guy, but that wasn't anything to fret about. More importantly, he had been attracted to him without knowing him at all. He had only had to look at him to find him cute, and he seemed to return the feelings as well. Or maybe he just saw him as a kid, like the comment about his age had led him to understand. The little kisses on the forehead were after all more suited for a sleeping child than for…

Dipper groaned, bruising his eyes further when he dug into them with the heels of his hands. This was all so frustrating, despite the fact that he knew that he would probably never hear of Wirt ever again. His book will never be opened, his number forgotten and his name just a distant memory maybe, if he was lucky.

Just as he was thinking that, the phone sparked to life, vibrating merrily with the words 'Unknown Number' written across the screen. Dipper had to try several times before successfully swiping the little bubble that would let him answer the call, biting his thumbnail to anchor himself.

"H-hey, Dipper..."

That voice on the other end of the phone. He had been waiting for it.

"Wirt, is that you? Are you back home already?" he asked, happy but a little perturbed nevertheless. He must live really close to the airport.

The scratchiness of the line blurred, and for the first time the youngest Pines heard the sound of agitation in the background.

"W-well, n-not exactly..."

"What do you mean by that? Wirt, where are you? Are you still at the airport?"

The line crackled, probably from a sigh, before Wirt answered him.

"W-Well yes. I'm still in San F-Francisco, but… the flight's been canceled, Dipper. I-I waited all night, a-and it kept getting put back, and… this m-morning, they told us it's canceled, and the n-next one is… well, not soon."

"Okay, okay… we can deal with this..." Dipper said, thinking out loud and pacing the living room. "You can come over. Do you think you can take the same bus you did before to Piedmont? I'll have to convince my mom to let you stay… Wirt, does your mom know about this?"

"Y-yeah, a-and she told me to t-take a Greyhound back… the next flight's only after C-Christmas… but I know th-that she doesn't really want me to take the l-long distance buses, she d-doesn't trust them at all, and I d-didn't really manage to grab enough c-cash to get a ticket wh-when I… I can't g-go back to my dad's D-Dipper… I… j-just can't..."

Dipper panicked a bit, hearing the near sobbing on the other end of the line. "Wirt! Wirt, please calm down. It's all right." He swallowed heavily, keeping back the 'I'm here' that he nearly let pass his lips. "D-do you have any other relatives on this side of the states? I'm sorry, of course you don't, if not your mom would have told you to stay with them. Right, just concentrate on finding that bus for now, phone me back when you've got the times and stuff. I'll go and talk to my parents."

"Th-thank you Dipper. I know this is k-kind of a huge thing to ask… N-no, I'll never be able to pay you back for this. It's nearly Christmas as w-well, and you've probably got a ton of relatives around and..."

"No, we don't, and we have enough room for you. Just, find a bus to bring you to Piedmont, ok? I'll handle the rest."

"All r-right. Thanks again, Dipper."

"That's fine, Wirt. See you later."

"Y-yeah..."

The line went dead on the other end first, and Dipper had to shake off his surprise in order to pocket his phone. He moved into the kitchen again where his dad had switched off the TV, and was now looking at him with wide eyes.

"Y-you heard our conversation?" he squeaked.

"Yes, and to tell you the truth, I'm not sure what's going on. I'm ok with taking this kid in for a few nights if he's in trouble, but who is he? I've never heard his name before..."

"Well… I only met him yesterday?" Dipper admitted, wincing as his sentence took on a questioning tone at the end. "On the bus back. He's having problems with his family, and he can't get home, and… ugh. Dad, I may not have known him long, but he's genuinely nice and his flight got canceled. He can't get back until after Christmas, and I don't think he can afford a hotel. Can we just, I don't know, make an exception?"

His parent settled further in his seat, picking up a piece of toast and taking a thoughtful bite out of the bread.

"I told you that I'm all right with this, but only if you manage to convince your mom," he eventually replied. "It's all in your hands now, my Little Dipper. Go on, she's in the office."

"Thanks, Dad. Really."

"No problem. Now go, before whoever's coming gets here!"

He ruffled his son's hair as he passed him by, shooting off towards the little room upstairs. The twin's mother was even more of an early riser than their father, getting up at ungodly hours to work. She would usually do so in San Francisco itself, but believing that school holidays should be spent with her family rather than at the office, she took on a second freelance job that she spent her mornings doing in those periods so as to have all her afternoons free to spend with her husband and two kids. Dipper braked abruptly in front of the office door, his knock turning timid when he raised his hand to the wood.

"Come in! Please, just let me finish this last line and I'm all with you."

Dipper walked into the office, the surfaces as cluttered with various papers as his own room was. The woman sitting at the desk continued typing on the keyboard in front of her for a few more seconds before she turned to face him.

"Hi, Dipper. Gosh, you didn't sleep well last night. Are you all right sweetie? Don't tell me you stayed up reading all night long, I'll have to put a lock on that bookcase someday," she joked.

Dipper took a deep breath, before jumping in. "Mom, I've got a… friend, and he's in trouble. He can't get back home, he's stuck here for a while, and he needs a place to stay. Can he, maybe, take the sofa for a few nights?"

Instantly, her smile vanished, a confused, then slightly concerned expression taking its place.

"Well, can't his parents pick him up?"

"Mom, he lives on the East Coast," Dipper added quietly. "His flight was canceled."

"That's odd. He isn't someone you met over the internet, isn't he?"

"No. I… met him yesterday. But he's only fifteen, and he can't stay at the airport for all that time."

She rubbed her temples, letting out a dull groan. "Dipper… I'm not sure. You already led us a right song and dance yesterday… But I guess I can't ignore a kid in need. Is there anyone I can call to make sure this is alright? Is there someone looking after him back where he lives who I can talk to? I can't trust a stranger just like that, I'm sorry Dipper, I need a little proof and it all to be organized correctly."

"Y-yeah, if I call him, I can get him to give me his mom's number… I'll do that now."

"No, wait a second," she interrupted him. "Wait… can you give me the full story? I don't want to go in this blind."

Without hesitating a second, Dipper told her everything. Well, nearly everything. He left out the falling-asleep-on-his-shoulder bit, and the fact that if they were magnets he was North and Wirt was South… or the other way around. Wirt would probably be able to express it better than he ever could.

"...and that's all," he finished off, the call he had received in the living room the last thing that he went over. "Should I phone him now?"

"I guess so," she relented. "I would like to talk to him as well; I'm pretty sure I can tell whether he's pulling our leg or not."

"Erm, well, he does stutter a lot, so don't be surprised," he added weakly. He dialed the number from his recent calls and waited a few rings before Wirt picked up.

"Oh, Dipper! I was just about to c-call, there's a bus in twenty minutes and..."

"Wirt, I'm sorry, but my mom needs to speak to you. She wants to speak to your mom as well to see if she's ok with you staying over."

"Erm, er… all right."

Without waiting any longer, Dipper passed his phone to his mother. For the next few minutes he strained to hear Wirt's side of the conversation, only catching a stuttered word here or there, whilst his mother used her marketing voice and spoke to him in a detached manner. At one point, she pulled a loose piece of paper her way to write down a number, nodding as she did. She hung up after giving a curt goodbye, handing the phone back to her son.

"Wirt told me that he'll phone her first to tell her about the plan. He seems like a good boy to me, a little shy but friendly enough. If there's nothing strange about his mother, I'll let him stay over."

Dipper nodded mutely, but on the inside he was cheering his throat raw. He had more or less won at this point.

The next fifteen minutes seemed agonizingly long to him. The two women went on for ages, speaking to each other and making sure that they were both safe people. Wirt's mom sounded greatly relieved once the phone was passed to Dipper, probably to reassure her on the fact that he actually existed. After quite a few goodbyes and thank yous his mom hung up.

"Go on and call your friend, Dipper. He'll be staying until Saturday morning, when the next plane'll come in. And you're the one taking the sofa, mister, we're not letting a guest sleep on that piece of uncomfortable furniture for that long."

He shrugged, not caring in the slightest. He was too busy dialing Wirt's number again, that he had added as a contact while his mom was speaking on her own phone. This time, he answered more quickly.

"Wirt! You can take that bus, you can stay!"

"R-really? Wait, let me get this done," he said, the sound of coins tinkling and muted conversations filling the background in the short silence that followed. "S-sorry, they've got these machines to buy tickets here, I j-just thought I might get one here instead of getting one on the bus like last time."

For a second, something seemed off to Dipper, something that he couldn't quite grasp immediately, before he put his finger on it. "Hey, you're not stuttering as badly as you usually do."

A laugh in the background -short and true, that lifted Dipper's heart to heavens unexplored- was heard before his next sentence: "W-well, I d-don't really do it usually… Only when I'm stressed or out of m-my comfort zone… You know how it goes."

"Yeah, sure."

His mom cleared her throat and waved her fingers in front of his face, trying to get his attention. "Dipper, do I need to go and pick him up at the bus stop, or are you walking?"

"Wait a sec, Wirt. Yes please mom. And again, thanks."

"That's fine sweetie. We'd better get going soon if we're to get there on time, so make your room presentable and put a coat on, and we'll be off. I just need to send this email, so I'll wait for you downstairs while you do that."

Oh right, his research. It was true that the place was a bit of a tip. Then he remembered that the person who was going to stay there was Wirt, and he reconsidered his previous judgment. No, it was an absolute mess.

"Dipper, are y-you still there?" came the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Right, er, y-yes. I'm sorry, I need to leave for now, we'll meet you at the bus stop later."

"Alright. See you then?"

"See you then."

Mrs. Pines had gone back to typing, but she still looked over her shoulder with a smile when she saw her son race out of the room. He just didn't know how obvious his blush was. She worried a little though, like any mother, on how this would turn out. He's only fourteen after all, but he's intelligent enough to figure it out himself, she thought, redirecting her attention back to the screen.

Being very careful not to wake Mabel up and therefore causing instant chaos, Dipper tiptoed to his room. Once he got there, he looked up at the kitchen clock with a puppy design he's had for as long as he could remember, checking the time. It was half past eight, leaving him roughly half an hour to get his stuff sorted before having to go out. His eyes then fell to the floor, and was quickly discouraged by the huge amount of work he had laid out in front of him. He squared his shoulders, pulled out an old-fashioned CD Walkman, put in the BABBA album he secretly stashed away under his pillow, and got to work with as much fervor as he could muster to the first few chords to 'Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (a date after midday)", trying not to sing along to the catchy track.

After about twenty minutes of aggressive organizing, he got all his papers into manageable piles on his desk and his now filled-to-bursting bookcases. At least now the floor was clear enough to sweep. He did so, also taking down the cobwebs and finding some wayward socks that needed to immediately be disposed of in the hamper. Dipper then added the finishing touches to his work by changing the sheets on his bed for the first time in months, it seemed. When he was finished, with maybe a few minutes to spare if he wanted to avoid the catastrophe that would be his mom calling for him up the stairs, he stepped back and frowned. His room looked like a normal teenager's room, something that he didn't remember having ever been the case. It was true that he had picked up on Ford's bad habit of having everything lying about in an organized mess that only he could understand, but he had never been concerned about it until today. He snapped out of his trance when "Disco Girl" hit his ears, and he just had to snatch up his flashlight and mouth the words into it, dancing around as silently as possible. He was perfectly happy: he was listening to his favorite song ever, his room was quite pleasantly clean, and his crush was coming over to stay for the next few days.

The thought stopped him mid-step, and Dipper quickly took his headphones off and pressed the stop button on the player. He still had a problem with the concept -it was a little alien to him, he supposed- but there wasn't anything he could do about it, really. Sobered, he pulled firmly down on the flaps of his hat before heading downstairs.

"Into the Unknown," he had the compulsion to say before heading down to the kitchen, finding the wording right.

His mother was dressed smartly and his dad sloppily, as usual. The TV was on again, another brightly-colored cartoon dancing across the small screen. They both looked up at Dipper as he came in, he himself letting his gaze dart from right to left before entering the room.

"Mabel's not up yet?" he asked, not quite able to keep the fear out of his voice.

"I think that you would know by now if it were the case," his dad answered. "Ready to go?"

"Yep. You're staying here?" Dipper asked him, unsure whether he was still wearing pajamas or had changed into daytime clothes.

"No, Someone's got to be on damage control duty once your sister's up. Am I right in saying that she doesn't know where you're going this morning?"

"Erm… N-no, I mean... yes!"

"Right, I get it. Have a good time, then," he said, winking at his son.

"We're only going to pick someone up, you know," Dipper's mom cut in, seeing the silliness a mile off and trying to halt it before it evolved into something uncontrollable.

"I know, hon. Bye then!"

"Okay dad, bye!"

"Bye!"

The next thing Dipper knew, he was sitting next to her in the car, on their way to the neck of the town where the big buses to and from the neighboring cities would stop. It wasn't that far, but they were the longest five minutes Dipper had ever experienced. Of course they got there earlier, quite a few minutes before the bus was due to pass, so Dipper decided to experiment. He tried sending a message to Wirt, not sure whether he would respond. He didn't look like the kind of person who would own the newest smartphone somehow, so he was quite surprised when he actually did receive an answer.

Wirt: I should be about three minutes, we just went past a sign saying a mile or so to Piedmont.

Me: Good, I think I actually see you in the distance.

Wirt: Really? I think I see you too.

Indeed, a large bus cut through the thoroughly snow-covered landscape save for the black road, cleared of the winter nuisance. Dipper bolted out of the car, slamming the door maybe a little too firmly, but he didn't care much. By the time he got to the bus stop the vehicle had pulled up, and as soon as he caught sight of the blue cape he lunged forward, stopping himself from throwing his arms around Wirt's lithe form when he realized that the place was absolutely packed with people, and he became aware of both his own and Wirt's natural awkwardness.

"Er, d-do you want me to take that?" Dipper asked him, mentally slapping himself in the face when he realized that the bag Wirt was carrying mustn't have been heavier than one of his journals back at home.

"Th-thanks, y-yes please," he answered surprisingly, but his intentions became clear to Dipper when he handed the piece of light luggage over, his fingers lingering on the strap just a second longer than necessary. They were connected to each other by that thin piece of polyester for a second, not quite touching, their shyness making sure that they didn't, but it was still close enough to make Dipper blush and Wirt look away.

"Hello there, you must be Wirt. I'm Mrs. Pines, Dipper's mother."

Dipper jumped when his mom mysteriously appeared by his side, making Wirt let go of the bag quickly and letting it swing towards the other boy.

"G-glad… V-Very glad to meet you, Mrs P-Pines," he said in return, grasping her extended hand and shaking firmly. "Th-thank you for taking me in…"

"Dipper insisted so much that I couldn't possibly say no," she offered by way of explanation, smiling mockingly at her son, who bristled. "Don't worry about it, Wirt. I couldn't in my right mind let a kid, let alone one of my son's friends, stay on the streets in this weather."

"I-I'm s-still very g-grateful, Mrs. Pines."

"I know, but if we're to have this conversation, let's have it somewhere warmer. To the car, boys."

They trekked over to the parked vehicle, which had already accumulated half an inch of snow on the windshield during the short period they had left it.

"I see why you're stuck here, Wirt. Looks like a storm's on its way," Dipper's mom remarked, opening the door and falling into the driver's seat. Dipper opened the door for Wirt, what could have been a coy smile spoiled by the way he dropped his gaze nervously when he did. Wirt sat, letting out a grateful sigh as he did, a visible shiver going through his body at the temperature change. Making a split-second decision, Dipper rounded the car and sat in the back with Wirt instead of sitting shotgun as he was initially going to. His mom shot him a slightly confused look and Wirt looked away, but there wasn't any other reaction on either of their parts.

"So Wirt, you must be hungry after all your traveling would you care for a bite to eat when we get back home? A brunch or something?"

"Oh nono… I'm all r-right, Mrs Pines, I d-don't want to oblige..."

"Nonsense! My husband will probably freak out when he sees you. You're nothing but skin and bone; he's a kickboxing teacher you know, so he's into all the fitness gimmick… And that doesn't just mean exercising regularly, it also means eating healthily."

"W-well, if he enjoys cooking… "

"He does. It's sometimes difficult to tear him away from the oven, a bit like Mabel with her jumpers. She's Dipper's twin, you know. I must show you alllll the cute matching baby pictures I've got of them from when they were little..."

"Mom, don't!" Dipper cried out, knowing that there wasn't much he could do about it anyway, but trying nonetheless.

"Just teasing, sweetie," she reassured him. "But Wirt, please tell us if you need something. And no, don't start thanking us over and over. You've done that once, and it's enough for us. We accept your thanks wholeheartedly, all right?"

"Besides, I don't think you'll be thankful for much longer. When we get home, you'll have to face Mabel, and she'll be all over you in seconds like a rash."

"Dipper, don't say that about your sister, it's rude. Still, I can't say that you're wrong," she admitted, chuckling lightly.

"I-I can't imagine h-her being that bad…" Wirt said, his voice quiet. "My b-brother's a bit of a h-handful at times t-too, so I'm certain I can handle w-whatever she'll throw at me."

Dipper and his mother's gaze caught in the rear-view mirror for a second, exchanging a disbelieving look, before they returned their eyes to their current occupations: Wirt and the road respectively.

"You'll be having Dipper's room while you're staying here. He agreed to give it up and take the sofa instead, so you should be comfortable enough. As long as he remembered to clear out his rancid socks, that is."

"I actually put some effort into cleaning up, thank you very much. I honestly swear that it isn't that bad."

"Aww, w-well... I'm s-sorry to kick you out, D-Dipper..." the other teen said awkwardly, but was immediately interrupted by both the other occupants of the car.

"Stop. Apologizing!" parent and son chanted in unison, as if it were something they had rehearsed. "We just told you that it's fine, so let's just focus on more practical stuff: are there foods that you're allergic to or that you don't eat? Or are you allergic to anything at all?"

"Like pig hair," Dipper supplied helpfully.

"Maybe… W-wait, I'm sorry?"

"Mabel's got a pet pig. Don't worry, you'll get to meet him soon enough. Hey, wait, we're already home?"

Indeed, the trip back had gone by in a flash, as opposed to the time they had set out. The car parked and Dipper was about to undo his seat-belt, when…

BONK.

Wirt cried out in terror, and Dipper was about to face the horrifying creature that had dared attack ones that he cared for, when his eyes latched to the window on Wirt's side of the car and he could only laugh out loud at the sight before him. Wirt, as white as a sheet, was looking in horror at Mabel's deformed face, squished into a silly mess on the other side of the cold glass.

"Thrippers thcrush!" was the only vaguely distinguishable phrase that came from her, drowned under the overlaying shriek of joy that she issued the instant her face left the window. Wirt watched her warily, holding his heart as if it would burst out of his chest if he let go.

"Told you."

He turned to face the calmer twin a bit sheepishly. "I guess you did."

"I'm tempted to just stay here so as not to face her. She's got some… erm, nothing. Nope, just ignore what I just said."

Dipper had been about to admit that his sister thought they were involved romantically. He was about to mention it, totally offhandedly, as if it were no big deal. That was definitely not a step he had thought he would be okay with taking so quickly, and gosh now he was blushing just thinking of it, and he still didn't know if Wirt felt a hundred percent the same for him as well. He might just be a naturally cuddly person who finds it natural to be so nice and kind to others…

"Wirt, Dipper, do you really think that it's a good idea to stay in the car in this cold? Coming in sounds like a good plan to me, boys."

Outside, Mabel was dancing around in the snow, wearing nothing but her nightie and a pair of sparkly flip-flops. Not sure what to make of this, the two teens followed the grown woman's implicit command to get into the warmth, Mabel's attention temporarily distracted from them by the snow. Their respite was very short, however, as she came to her senses and realized that her prey had escaped her while her attention was distracted by the small white flecks of frozen water falling from the sky, and she launched herself at the taller of the two, ignoring her family members completely in her haste to get to her new best friend.

"HelloImMabelyoumustbeWirtIveheardsomuchaboutyoualreadyherehaveahug!"

Wirt stumbled back under the brunette's extra weight, narrowly avoiding falling into one of the frozen bushes lining the sides of the house. Again, he seemed overwhelmed by the events, Mabel probably under the impression that she was hugging a piece of wood. Or a broomstick even, considering the boy's frame.

"How do you know his name?" Dipper couldn't help asking. He hadn't told her a single thing about Wirt, he was absolutely certain of that.

"Mpthdad," she answered him, speaking through Wirt's shoulder. Just then, Dipper was overcome with an immense, irrational wave of jealousy. It was so intense that he couldn't feel the cold anymore, he was so irate. That shoulder was his to hug, why was she trying to...

Suddenly, Mabel pushed Wirt away from her, almost violently. Dipper, who had been standing just behind him, suddenly found himself with his arms full as he caught him instinctively, even lifting him a little off his feet. The one who had suffered the fall fumbled, holding tightly onto the bo sho was now holding him, hooking an arm around Dippers neck and the other somehow finding itself tangled in his hair, knocking the lumberjack's hat askew. Mabel, shielded from her mom's view by the boys between them, winked joyfully at them before dancing up the stairs to the front door, even managing a twirl on one of the steps without breaking her neck on the icy cement and with her inappropriate footwear.

Over the years, Dipper had grown short and sturdy, so he had no problem catching and holding Wirt up (who was maybe a little underweight anyway). As long as he didn't think too much about it, he could just imagine that he was holding a bag of potatoes, or one of Grunkle Stan's barrels of questionable merchandise, or…

Nope, no use. His grip turned stiff, his nerves taking a toll on the situation. Jealousy was no longer the one keeping him warm: the full-body blush had taken care of that. And maybe a little bit Wirt's body close against his own as well, still just as comfortable as he remembered it being yesterday. He set him down slowly, as if he were made of glass, prolonging the contact for as long as he could without seeming suspicious, Wirt's hold likewise lingering, a soft touch through his thick mop of hair that managed to somehow be even more comforting than his hat, despite the protection that it had granted him over the years against bullying and mockery.

"That was a close call! You could have fallen in that snow drift and caught the flu or something. Speaking of which, let's hurry up before either of you do," the twin's mom said, breaking the atmosphere and immediately turning both boys beetroot. She went up front to open the door, beckoning to the two teens, who both came along clumsily tripping over their own feet. Dipper, being the last to enter the house, was the one to close the cold out while his mom took off her shoes and coat, trading the former for slippers whilst Wirt stood anxiously in a corner, visibly uncertain of what to do. The male twin darted to the cupboard hidden behind the door for a pair of felt slip-ons.

"Here… s-so your feet don't get too cold," Dipper said, keeping his eyes averted as he presented them to the household's newest guest. His words came out as a mumble, and he coughed into his fist to clear his throat. Or hide his unease, one or the other. In that motion, his eyes automatically seeked out the subject of his comment.

"Hey, er, I think you already know but… your shoes..."

"Erm, yes, r-right… I d-don't usually l-look before I put them on? P-plus I didn't really have t-time to find a pair, s-so I just grabbed what I f-found."

Still focused on the mismatched footwear, Dipper could not help but notice the way Wirt's feet, as well as his whole body language, shifted to fit his emotions. It reminded him a bit of Mabel, the way she would bounce around at any given occasion, or her shoulders would slump and her knees would bend when she was tired. The simple nervous shuffling, the way his toes pointed in, he found it all relatable in a certain sense. The taller boy's unease, the sore spot he felt he had hit with the mentioning of his family was all too palpable in the current atmosphere however, and Dipper felt the urge to comfort Wirt as he could for the time being, anyway. He looked into his eyes, barely managing to stop himself from drowning in them, and he handed the two hand-sewn house shoes to him. As he did, he smiled, finding words superfluous to the simple exchange that took place just then. A small quirk of the lips answered him, and that was enough to set the grasshoppers bounding away in his belly once again.

Minutes later, they entered the kitchen, which Dipper found to be suspiciously Mabel-free. On the table sat a cooling mug of coffee, abandoned in haste by his dad once his wife had told him of brunch plans. The man popped his head out of the fridge, balancing three loaded dishes of various ingredients when he caught sight of the boys.

"Hi there, you must be Wirt. I'm sorry I can't come over straight away, let me just put this down first."

The uncooked food was placed on the main table, Mrs. Pines helping him unload the plates he was struggling with and that he would have probably otherwise let drop. Wirt shook his extended hand once it had been freed, mumbling a shy 'nice to meet you, Mr. Pines.'

To Dipper's embarrassment, the handshake instantly morphed into a full hug, much like Mabel's, that had Wirt gasping in shock for a second. He was quickly released however, Dipper's mom laughing behind her hand at Wirt's expression and her son's mortification. Mr. Pines returned to his previous occupation without a second glance, whistling in a care-free manner whilst Wirt sat down, a little awe-struck. Dipper watched as he slowly returned to his senses, all of them glancing around to the door leading to the living room as they heard the pound of feet and trotters making their way down the stairs.

"SURPRISE!" shouted Mabel as soon as she emerged into the room, now fully dressed and covered in bits of loose yarn and glitter. A medium-sized pig squeezed between her legs, grunting as it waddled over to the one unknown person in the room and rested its head on his lap with a huff. Wirt raised his hands, unsure of what to do, before bringing them down slowly and petting the animal, finding the one spot behind his ears where he loved to be scratched fairly quickly. His eyes weren't on the pig, however, but rather on the hyperactive teenager who was currently bouncing up and down in the doorway.

"No, I was absolutely not doing arts and crafts real quick while you were chilling here. Nope, not at all," she blabbered, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face and smiling too widely. "Hey, you've met Waddles! Aw, and he likes you so much already!"

Wirt raised an eyebrow. "You mean he's actually named Waddles? It's quite fitting."

Dipper's head snapped in his direction again, his attention caught by the complete lack of stutter. Without the usual nervous inflection, it sounded calm and smooth, a bit like a voice-actor's. Not only that, but it was incredibly appealing and...

"Right! You should see him when he runs, he's so wobbly and beautiful! And his face! It's so lovely and fat and cuuuuute!" Mabel rudely interrupted his train of thoughts, again spinning around on the spot. Wirt smiled at her, not mockingly in the slightest, actually interested in what she was saying. Dipper had been wary of introducing Wirt to Mabel, but not only for the awkwardness that would ensue her inevitable 'you're my brother's crush, date him now!', but also, he now realized, because he wasn't sure whether he would judge her. Over the years, people of their age had changed a lot, and it wasn't rare for Mabel's childishness to be frowned upon by strangers. Fortunately, she had a dense group of friends, her ever-supportive family and her fighting skills to keep them at bay, but it still hurt to see her rejected by people who didn't understand her, and therefore were afraid of her and attacked her. The male twin realized then that even though he felt deeply for Wirt, he still didn't know him well enough to trust him completely, but what he had just seen did warm his heart and made him think that maybe he was a person who would accept them all as themselves, as odd as they were.

"You've got an interesting conception of beauty: it's non-conventional, and you confirm the idea that it is indeed in the eye of the beholder. Just a question, though: do you think that there's beauty in everything?"

"Yes! Definitely!" she answered immediately, her voice having to compete with the loud crackle of eggs in a frying pan. "And if it isn't it is once it's covered in sparkles and stickers."

Wirt gave a nod, expression studious as if he were taking notes. The twin's mom also had a small smile on her face, appreciating the exchange taking place between the two young artists. She got up when the sound of frying was heard though, bringing plates and cutlery out for everyone.

"Hey Wirt, are you all right with mushrooms, cheese and herbs?" asked Dipper's dad, looking over his shoulder at the scene unfolding at the table. His smile was as bright as everyone else's, just as warm, but Wirt either wasn't expecting the question or was intimidated somewhat by the oldest man in the house and nodded bashfully. He remained quiet for a while after that, switching to listening to Mabel's stories, not asking any questions and answering in the stutter that Dipper had always heard him use. Again, he felt a little sad and had to hold back from wrapping something -a blanket, his cape, his own arm- around this insecure boy and maybe hush soothing words to him, just to get rid of the tension he now displayed. Mabel continued on chatting, braiding her hair to the side as she did, eyes lost in her story as she spoke, so Dipper, glancing to one side at his Mom who had taken to reading the TV magazine and his Dad who had turned his attention back to the spitting of the frying pan, risked it and extended a hand and laid it lightly on one of the tense shoulders.

He clammed up so quickly at the slight contact that it should have been considered closer to a flinch than anything else, but after a few seconds he seemed to relax into the touch. He didn't even turn around to see who it was, and Dipper was under the impression that the reason why was that he knew it was him, and the honor that that was filled him with a stronger will yet to protect and soothe him.

A first plate was set on the table, quickly followed by several more to cater to the whole family, and even Waddles was allowed his own little tin bowl filled with the leftover mushrooms. Dipper thanked his dad with a raised thumb, to which he answered with a playful ruffle to dislodge his hat.

"This looks nice! Thanks, hon. I think this was a brunch kind of day anyway."

"Well, everyday should be a brunch day, if you ask me! Especially in the holidays: we wake up so late that I don't see why we should eat two separate meals at all!" said Mabel, already wolfing down the contents of her plate, but somehow still managing to maintain comprehensible speech.

"I think Dipper would disagree with you on that one, cutie," her mom replied, herself nibbling at the herby egg on the end of her fork. "I don't think that he's quite up to cooking as soon as he wakes up. Just keep to the normal, uncooked breakfast stuff until you don't run a risk of burning the whole house to the ground anymore."

"I bet he'll be able to do that even if he were fully awake," Mabel huffed, shooting Dipper an only half-serious disappointed look. "You'd be distracted by your research or your dumb sousaphone or..."

"Mabel!" the person in question hissed.

"It's true! You're always so distracted that..."

"No I'm not!" he tried to argue again, but he saw that he was getting nowhere with this. When Mabel was determined to embarrass him, she always succeeded in one way or another. She was about to open her mouth again, maybe to remind their mom that they had boxfuls of embarrassing twin baby pictures to show (somehow, she managed to stay immune to the embarrassment that they brought upon Dipper, and would occasionally even find them cute), when a shy voice, several hundreds of decibels lower than Mabel's, mumbled out a sentence that had Dipper freeze.

"I-I don't s-see why you w-would say the s-sousaphone's dumb," Wirt said, Dipper's hand still on his shoulder sending the words humming through him as intensely as if he were sitting on a huge speaker at a rock concert, sending his lungs and other internal organs aquiver. He didn't move in the slightest however while he processed the words. The sousaphone. Not dumb. Not dumb. He doubted he had heard that correctly.

"It's a really important part of most orchestral compositions, the tuba, that is. But the sousaphone is better for marching bands, it's easier to transport. Without it there wouldn't be a bass to the melody, and the whole piece wouldn't sound quite right."

Nope, he had definitely heard that correctly then. Under his palm, the taller boy's shoulders had straightened with a new determination, and his voice was stronger, more incontestable than he had ever heard it before, and Dipper hesitated, feeling that he might need to pull his hand away, fearing either the reprimand from this new side of Wirt that he had never fully known the existence of or else being burned by the literal fire that he felt thrum through the heavily clothed shoulder that he still had a grasp on.

There was a brief staring contest between Mabel and the house guest, but Wirt's shoulders slumped in defeat after a few seconds, a sigh clearly indicating that he had lost.

"I-I'm sorry, i-it was r-rude for me to g-go against your opinion," he apologized, his voice hesitating between tired and all-out fearful, the complete opposite of what it had been a few seconds ago. Again, it was difficult for Dipper not to feel angry at his sister, even though she had nothing to do with Wirt's sudden change in personality.

"Don't do that."

Mabel had spoken up and leaned over, laying her hand on the shoulder opposite the one where Dipper's hand was still siting. He felt himself glaring at her as she smiled her reassuring smile, not the one which showed all her teeth and that people found creepy at times. "You don't need to apologize. It just so happens that I agree with you anyway, so technically you're not challenging my opinion. And hey, why shouldn't people listen to what you have to say anyway? It's interesting! You're interesting! Dipper's interested in y..."

"Right! That's enough for now, Mabel. Eat your food before it gets cold," interrupted her mother at just the right moment. The female twin mumbled something half-heartedly about people never allowing her to finish her sentences before attacking her food.

Once Wirt had finished off his plate, the twin's dad got up and wordlessly made another omelet. He set it in front of Wirt, then started eating again. It was about midday when they all finally finished off their food, Waddles surprisingly being the last one to finish his meal off (it was later revealed that the twin's mom wasn't the greatest fan of mushrooms). Dipper decided, after a few minutes of silence, that it was time for a little movement and got up to help with clearing the table. Immediately, Wirt got up to help, but was quickly held back by Mabel with another one of those conversations about beauty that relaxed Wirt so much and that Dipper was so, so jealous of by now. He tried to make as much noise as possible loading the dishwasher, but the sound of their conversation couldn't be covered. Wirt's voice in particular detached from the rest of the kitchen sounds, their parents having struck up a conversation between themselves as well. It was like when you could hear your name being called through a crowded party, but this was a voice rather than a word.

"Wirt, don't hesitate to tell us if there's anything you need," said his mom, and Dipper immediately turned around, slamming the appliance's door shut in his haste. That was the last straw, he wasn't going to be left out any longer.

"H-hey Wirt… Maybe I should show you around the house, maybe bring your bag up to your room?" Dipper asked. To his embarrassment, everyone's head snapped around to him when he said that, four wide smiles directed his way (three human, one pig), and one anxious.

"Good idea, Dipper. Mabel, can you stay here and help me get my stuff together for this afternoon?" asked her dad, and she replied with an equally cheeky smile as the one that he was sporting himself.

"I don't believe that you still need help with that bag of yours! You go to the gym often enough to be able to carry it on your own," she said, only for her to squeal in glee when her dad leaned forward and tickled her in response. They exited the room towards the entrance hall together, falling over their own laughter. The twin's mom watched her husband and daughter leave fondly before she turned back to her son and nodded subtly. Waddles got up and made his way to the stairs, a little too full to partake in the excitement.

"Come on, Wirt, Waddle's got the idea!" said Dipper a bit too enthusiastically, grabbing Wirt's bag and slinging it over his shoulder before he had time to protest. He marched through the arch that led to the next room, the small living room that was only slightly bigger than the kitchen.

"Wow… It's… pink," said Wirt immediately, pulling his head into his shoulders when he realized what he had just said. He likely thought that he could take it as an insult, but instead, Dipper just smiled it off.

"Maybe, but it doesn't bother us that much anymore. We've got nothing against the color and there's also the fact that we're not bothered to change it."

Wirt nodded, eyes trailing around the room, making Dipper panic a little as he caught sight of all the little things that he could have tidied up before he left to pick up Wirt. Did the throw on that chair need to be that crooked? Why hadn't Mabel brought her stack of girly musicals back upstairs and banished them to the depths of her closet where they were meant to be? And who had left that glass there?

He watched Wirt as he scanned the room, but he only did so quickly, and he only stopped to look a little longer on the menorah, but that was all. Dipper drew up a mental note to expect questions on that later, tightened his fingers on the strap of the backpack he still held.

"Do you want to see the room where you're staying now?"

The other boy nodded, and they headed up the creaking wooden stairs to the corridor at the top.

"Okay, so the bathroom's this door," Dipper explained, pushing said door open to the room in question to show the houseguest.

"Erm… could y-you show me how the shower works? I think I've got a problem with them, th-they're always different, so..."

"Yeah, fine. Look, it's just a normal shower and bath system, you just have to pull the lever here to change it over if you want to take one or the other… Oh yeah! Be careful if you decide to shower after dad or Mabel though, they tend to use up all the hot water."

He opened the tap to demonstrate; a small rush was heard in the pipes before the water started flowing proper, the splash of it against the bottom of the bath leaving droplets clinging to the sides. Dipper looked to the side, an extra explanation concerning the cold and hot water flows in the house on his lips, but he was caught off guard by the sight before him.

The expression on his face was pure wonder. There, he saw the dancing droplets of water that he had never thought special before reflected in Wirt's eyes. He caught there a glimpse of the constant flow going through the poet's mind, the inner workings that meant that his aura was what it was. Slowly, his eyes still harboring that spark of wonder, he reached out a hand and twisted the tap so that the gush turned to a trickle. He watched the glittering water for a few seconds longer still before he tried to close it off completely, but he struggled, the calm look on his face morphing to frustration so quickly that Dipper couldn't help but laugh.

"It can be a bit difficult at times," he remarked, reaching over to help. His hand covered the other boy's without a second thought, his slightly lighter skin tone melding with Wirt's as their fingers meshed together on the cool chrome, and he added his own strength to achieve the objective he had set himself. Their hands stayed linked when they brought them back towards themselves, and Wirt pulled them close, cradling them against his chest, eyes still lost in the contemplation of the small droplets that remained after the downpour. After a while, he snapped out of it and hastily let go of Dipper's hand, burying his rapidly reddening face in his own palms and turning his back completely on Dipper when this didn't prove to be enough.

He, on the other hand, sensed the same violent blush come to his cheeks, but didn't feel the need to hide it in any way. It was only both of them here, and with Wirt's back turned, he could observe him as much as he liked without seeming like a creep. The warmth instantly disappeared, however, when he caught sight of the mirror that Wirt was facing, his own face reflected, but also the hole in the net of fingers over Wirt's leaving one of his eyes uncovered and staring at the mirror. And from the angle he was looking at the object, he wasn't taking a peek at his own reflection, but rather the younger boy's.

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Dipper turned on his heels and exited the bathroom.

"Right, so… um… I'll show you your room."

Dipper shuffled down the corridor to the next door on the left side, his own signs glaring back at him as he shoved the light imitation-wood material inwards. He could feel Wirt's presence, even though he was several feet behind him, and quickly pushed through into the room.

"Oh y-yes, th-this is your room, y-you can keep it, i-it's ok if y-you want me to sleep on the c-couch instead..."

"N-nonsense. You're staying here, it gets really cold here anyway. I would prefer to be a little warmer for once."

Their gazes crossed, and Dipper felt his brain go wild when it picked up on the double-entendre that he had just dropped. Maybe if we snuggled really close we could fit in the same bed…

Nope, not in a thousand years, his conscience replied. I stayed up all night thinking about his face, no way I'm letting this thought get into my mind and spoil my sleep.

"Nah, it's fine. Really, you're tired and have had a tough time, you deserve to sleep in a real bed. You can look through my books as well if you want, just don't disturb my research. It's, uh, there."

He gestured vaguely to the monstrous pile of paper that cluttered most of the shelves, barring access to the aforementioned books. He laid Wirt's bag on the bed, remarking on the fact that it looked very small when sitting on the fluffy duvet, and instead moved it over to the desk.

"Y-you know, this reminds me of home. A-a bit," Wirt said, sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he didn't want to unmake it, quickly joined by Dipper, who cared much less about keeping the sheets straight. "It's nice. Well, it's true that we only have one floor and there's paneling everywhere and I don't think we have a pink living room..."

"Ah, I'm stuck with that now, aren't I?" the male twin joked, pulling at one of the flaps of his lumberjack's hat. It only barely held on his head anymore, the fabric a tight fit with his hair and all. "I'll forever be 'that guy who has a pink living room and isn't bothered about it', eh?"

"Pfff… not necessarily. More like 'that one person that helped out a complete stranger who could have been a murderous psycho killer but who let him into his house anyway' kind of guy."

"Nay, 'that lame guy who gave you a book to read even though he knew that the chances of you actually reading it were as high as rolling a perfect thirty eight on the infinity sided die."

"Uh, by the way… I've finished it."

There was a short silence, before Dipper burst out laughing. "Really? I can't believe it. When did you do that?"

"Er, w-well… I d-didn't sleep last night, I was waiting for my p-plane, so… Yeah, I read it from cover to cover."

"Wow! That's… just wow, man. So what did you think of it?"

"I guess I'm a bit adverse to the survival aspect of it," he said, scratching at the back of his neck as he did. "But I liked the philosophy and reflection on religion, and the characters in themselves were really interesting. Tony Parker in particular."

"You're only saying that because you're a huge fan of the real Tony Parker, you dummy. I recognize that look."

"Well, maybe just a little bit."

He laughed his awkward chuckle, and the lightening in Dipper's heart brought his own laughter bubbling back up as well. In the end, maybe it was the stress from the last few days that made Wirt crack, but he and Dipper were immersed in an uncontrollable laughing match that had them both lying flat on their backs across the bed, rolling from one side to another, setting it off again every time they caught sight of each other. It was only when they found themselves completely out of breath that they stopped, ribs hurting from having laughed so hard and relaxed from letting themselves go. Waddles walked up to the threshold to investigate, snorted, then left.

This was the wake-up call for the boys, who straightened up and tried to regain their composure. Dipper looked away, Wirt's glee-filled face now permanently burned to the inside of his eyelids, he believed. It was in that moment that he felt a soft brush against his cheekbone, something familiar and that instantly made him feel complete. He quickly glanced in Wirt's direction, who was looking away innocently, but there was still that suppressed smile that gave him away. Dipper followed his lead and looked away shyly as well, and sure enough, he felt another soft kiss brush against his warm cheek. Again, Wirt evaded his gaze when he turned to look at him, so Dipper took his chance and leaned forward to press his own lips against Wirt's face. His expression changed instantly, the grin breaking out fully, but the shyness keeping their eyes stubbornly away from each other.

The cycle repeated itself several times, taking it in turns to turn away so the other could press shy upon shy kiss to each other's cheek, not getting bolder as they continued, but rather settling into a comfortable and deeply blissful rhythm that they both appreciated. The background noises of the occasional passing cars and pig trotters on the floorboards didn't disturb them in the slightest, but they still heard them all, drowning in each others presence without becoming completely unaware of their surroundings like they had on the bus, not being immersed completely in too close a proximity and the overwhelming presence of each others eyes. Nevertheless, it did take them a few seconds to register the pounding of footsteps on the stairs, and then to jump away from each other.

"GUESS WHO! Oh, sorry Wirt," she added onto her brusque introduction sentence when Wirt flinched away from her visibly.

"Erm, Mabel, we were just..."

"My turn! Let me show you my room!"

He didn't even have time to blink and his crush was out of sight. He was alone in the bedroom that had never seemed so empty before. Following the trail of glitter she had left behind, he paused in front of the door he had hesitated in front of last night before pushing past it. It wasn't something he was to dwell on anymore.

As expected, he found Wirt happily wrapped in several tape measures that he would surely get tangled in if he moved were it an inch, but his smile was genuine as he listened to Mabel jabber on about her own latest crush. It grounded him a bit, appeased the jealousy that was previously eating away at his guts, that he was now horrified to see only existed because he was scared that his sister would steal Wirt away from him. He knew that she would never do that to him, not when she suspected that it was reciprocate. Wendy had been a different matter, a lost cause, in her words, and he now understood that.

Goodness, he was in unhealthily deep.

Waddles nudged his legs, and Dipper leaned down to pet his head. The happy animal rolled over and exposed his belly, that he scratched without a second thought.

"Done! I've got all your measurements now, run free, my child. FREE I SAID!" she shouted, enthusiasm overflowing and spilling over in a great wave that had Wirt fleeing the room in fright. Dipper followed him, but his sleeve was caught by Mabel before he could successfully escape. Her eyes glinted maliciously as she slammed the door in Wirt's face and viciously attacked Dipper with the same tape measure she had just rolled up from its earlier use.

"Wait, no! Mabel, what do you think you're doing?"

"A good deed. I know you want to get back to your adorable ball of awkwardness, but I've got to get this done. It's been ages since I've last taken your measurements," she replied, pinning the tape down to keep it the right size. Shuddering at the thought of the little pieces of metal piercing right through his clothes to the skin underneath, Dipper didn't protest and stayed completely still.

"Hah! You didn't deny it!"

"Mabel, don't..."

"Dipper, this is not like you," she said, dramatically slapping a hand to her cheek, a mock awe-struck look on her face, narrowly avoiding poking her brother in the eye with a needle. "What does this mean? You still haven't denied it. Is it possible that you actually do consider him as a cute adorable fluffy kitten he's so cute? Please, please say yes, just for me!"

"No, I won't. And you just said 'cute' twice."

"Aww..."

She released him without any further requests though, to his great joy and relief. As expected, Wirt was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, looking at the photographs lining the walls and the side of the staircase.

"Look! It's the one with you in the Lamby Dance costume! It's the cutest one of Dipper that was ever taken!"

Tragedy had struck, despite his efforts in preventing it, thought Dipper with a sigh, walking over to tell the story behind the photo like a condemned man. He would have to go through the torture of embarrassing pictures, whether he liked it or not.

"When I was little mom would dress me up in a lamb costume and I'd do this little jig… dance routine, the Lamby Dance. Pretty lame, I know," he recounted quickly, trying to get the torture over with as quickly as possible.

"No it isn't! You were all cute and fluffy and those CHEEKS! They just look so SQUASHABLE!" said Mabel, twirling on the spot with palms pressed against her own cheeks.

"I d-don't know… I think you're l-lucky to have escaped the matching s-sailor suits at least. I still remember how itchy they were." Wirt shuddered, as if reminiscing something particularly uncomfortable, then went back to examining the rest of the photos.

Wow, that was unexpected. The Lamby Dance had been for years near the top of the list of most embarrassing things about himself, and never before had he known that people would shrug it off so willingly. As Wirt had demonstrated, everyone probably had their own set of childhood memories that were odd and maybe a little strange to others, but that wouldn't really be considered as embarrassing: they were kids, they did what any other set of kids would do, and there's no shame to have in that.

They went through all the photos that lined the walls, images that had become part of the routine to the twins and that they had fun reminiscing, giving them back the meaning they had lost from over-viewing. Dipper had a harder time bringing up the memories, partly because Mabel was better at all that stuff than he was, but mainly because his train of thoughts was constantly derailed and set afire by little innocuous comments that for some reason made his heart beat way faster than it really should when looking through bits and pieces of their childhood.

"We'd better get the albums out so you can look at more!" Mabel said once they had toured all the pictures.

"Erm, I'm sorry, b-but could I… just speak to my mom? T-tell her I got here safe and… well, sound."

"Of course! Hey, I know how expensive interstate calls are on mobile, go and use the landline instead. The phone's at the bottom of the stairs."

"Are y-you sure?" Wirt replied hesitantly to Dipper's suggestion. "I-I wouldn't like to eat a-away at your phone bill o-or anything..."

"Don't worry! It's nothing, you don't know how much we spend on that phone calling people in Oregon, so one more long-distance call isn't going to tip the scale. OH, DIPPER! We need to make cookies while dad's out! Do you think mom'll mind?"

"Erm, no? Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her for a while…."

"All right, I'll do that. See ya! I hope you like rainbow sprinkles Wirt, because you're about to be drowned in them!"

She skipped down the stairs, pig on her heels, still managing to not break her neck on the perilously loose carpeting. Wirt turned back to face Dipper, brows raised quizzically.

"She isn't over-exaggerating," the remaining twin assured. "I suggest you only take one, and even then I'm unsure whether you'll be able to stand the amount of sugar."

"I'm n-not exactly a sweet tooth either," Wirt sighed wistfully.

"You're kidding? Well, I'm sorry to say that you've landed in the wrong household. It's like… a staple food here."

Wirt chuckled, holding it back when it threatened to turn into something resembling his earlier indulgence. "W-well, I'm sure I'll manage to change my eating habits for a while. I did spend a week eating only wild berries, potatoes and molasses and turkey, so I should be able to adapt to something like this."

"Wow, you'll have to tell me the tale behind that one day. That's pretty unusual," said Dipper, tagging on a comment that he thought should have been throwaway, but that caused Wirt's shoulders to slump abruptly and his eyes to glaze over.

"Another t-time, then."

He had touched a nerve, that was for sure. Again, Dipper berated himself at his stupidity and insensitivity. Mabel never made stupid mistakes like he did! Where had he gone wrong?

They made their way down to the vacated living room, enthusiastic shouts and various cookery sounds coming from the kitchen already. Wirt winced, but picked up the phone anyway and dialed a number into it.

Dipper walked over to the kitchen, partly to give Wirt some privacy, but also to calm his sister and give his crush a bit of peace and quiet.

The place was already a colorful mess when he stepped in it, their mother protected a little from the splay of food by an apron, but both her and her daughter's hair were full of flour and other ingredients that should have probably been in the bowl rather than on their bodies. Nevertheless, they both looked happy, Mabel cackling manically and stirring a bowl of something a little too vigorously to avoid adding to the stains on the walls, every one of which were a testament to either Mabel's or his own kitchen disasters (both their parents were either good or at the ver least clean cooks).

"Hey Mabel, can you tone it down a bit? Wirt's on the phone to his mom."

"Is he settling in well?" asked his own mother, looking over her son's shoulder to the boy just about visible in the other room.

"Yeah, I think so. I don't think he'll admit it if he needs anything though, so maybe we should keep a new toothbrush and a couple of extra clothes handy."

"Oooh! Can I be in charge? Can I?"

"Well, I'm sorta scared you'll dress him in all pink, you see. I don't think he'll be able to say no either if that were the case, I think he sorta admires you too much for that."

"I don't see why I shouldn't then!"

Dipper rolled his eyes, huffing lowly in defeat. Just as he did Wirt walked through the doorway, smiling sheepishly, eyes maybe a little red.

"H-hey there, is it t-too late to help out?"

"No Wirt, I think there's still enough work for you to join us. I think that by this time you'll be stuck with doing more cleaning up than cooking though, but I guess that it's a burden that we've all got to bear in this case," mused the twin's mom. She was concentrating on the pastry dish on which she was depositing neat little circles of dough, each perfectly spaced out so that it wouldn't turn into one single giant cookie. "I heard you and Dipper laughing earlier on, I'm glad that you're settling in alright."

Both boys froze, looked at each other, then turned back to Mrs Pines and spoke at exactly the same time:

"Yeah, Wirt told me this really funny joke..."

"W-well yes, I g-guess I'm 's-settling in', but I wouldn't want to impose..."

"We know, hon, we know. Now go and put an apron on, both of you, and no more of this nonsense," she snapped back, but in a more teasing way than an unkind one. Mabel handed them a pair of the hand-made garments and they set to work.

The cooking actually took longer than they had first thought: a good part of the afternoon was spent in the kitchen, much to Dipper's embarrassment (and secret joy), with him on washing up duty due to his incapability to cook and Wirt with the task of watching the dough spread out in the oven that just happened to be next to him, their elbows brushing constantly as they went about their respective activities. The conversation was very comfortable though, Wirt being included on several occasions, most of the time to speak about his brother, who supposedly was very close in character to Mabel. At four, there was an unanimous vote to stop and eat a sample of the biscuits they had baked and that were now just cool enough to partake in. At first, Wirt picked tentatively at his cookie, a glass of milk ready next to him to wash down anything that was unpalatabely sweet, but started eating well once he found a batch that was actually to his taste.

"We must cook dinner while we're at it!" said Mabel once she had finished her own portion of food which consisted in a whole platerful of the little cakes.

"Without me, sweetie. If you don't mind, I'll leave you all to it," their mom replied to this, looking more tired than even he felt, which was a bit of a surprise to him. She was usually good at managing her work and family times in order to have enough energy to get through the day, but he guessed that it was a little his fault; after all, he was the one who had boarded the bus late and had added the extra stress of an unplanned guest to all the other stuff she had to deal with already.

"Fine, mom, we'll make sure to not make too much noise while you nap!" Mabel exclaimed loudly, in a voice that promised the exact opposite. It wasn't that she wasn't going to try, but it was simply not in her nature to be silent. It was okay though, everyone in household was used to sleeping through her mischief.

"Right, let's get down to business," the female twin said once she had waved her mother up the stairs to her room. "The big question is..."

Dipper felt the drop of cold sweat trace its path down his back as he imagined every single embarrassing question that could come out of his sister's mouth at that moment. He narrowed the possibilities down to 'Are you dating?' and 'Have you kissed yet?'. That smile, that look… she was just waiting for this one moment to embarrass them as thoroughly as possible.

"...potato and beef stew or some kind of weird lasagna of my invention?"

He didn't sigh in relief, but it was a close call.

"Erm… Dipper?" inquired Wirt, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"Oh, um, whatever you prefer Wirt..."

"R-really? Okay, so… you're sure Mabel?"

"Fire away, they're both kinda long to make, but you can leave me to it if you get bored halfway through. So, what is it to be, then?"

"Er… the s-stew sounds less...scary? N-not to be impolite, but I don't think I'm up to experimental food after all those cookies."

She waved her hand at him in dismissal, a smile on her face and amusement in her eyes. "Just go, I've been wanting to cook a meal without dad for a while now. And I guess I understand, even though I don't. How could you not want to eat exciting food all the time? It's just so exciting!"

"Right, we'll leave you to it then. Wirt, do you want to do anything in particular?"

"Erm… discuss literature? S-sorry, that was not meant to sound sarcastic, if that's okay with you..."

Dipper smiled at him, at his dorkiness that perfectly matched his own. It was difficult these days to find someone apart from Ford who would let him indulge in such things, and even he didn't know the more obscure recent books and media that had come out since he had fallen through the portal, despite all the time he had to get used to his own dimension again.

"Hey, it's got nothing to do with anything, but do you know Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons?" asked Dipper eagerly, thoughts of Ford gravitating towards the many hours they had spent playing said game.

"No? I m-mean, I've heard the name before, and I think it's got something to do with fantasy and magic or something like that, but I've n-never actually played. Is it interesting?"

Well, his luck on common interests had lasted out for as long as it had, Dipper supposed, but he answered anyway. "It's this game I really like, and yeah, there is a fantasy element to it, but it's more to do with imagination and statistics. I don't think you'll like it, it's quite popular but really… particular."

"I can try, can't I?" countered Wirt. "It can't be that complicated… statistics are like… numbers and stuff. Yeah, I can deal with that. I can deal with a f-few numbers," he added, as if trying to convince himself of that fact. Dipper sighed, knowing that he had a big job ahead of him if Wirt was so determined to learn how to play.

"I'll lend you the instruction book then. The first volume. I've got a really nice hardback copy of it, leather binding and all that jazz."

"Erm, right… What else do you read apart from… instruction manuals and strange but interesting philosophical novels? Or, I don't know, are you more of a reference book person?"

"Well, tell you what, I'll show you. I know there's all that research in the way, but I'm certain that I can dig a few novels out..."

They had gotten to the door, and he pushed against the wood without bothering to turn the handle. "I used to be into those mystery novels, you know, the ones where something goes missing and there's a big mystery surrounding it, but I think I've mostly grown out of them. There should be something somewhere though, I just need to..."

He had pulled out one of the journals lining his shelves midway when he heard a very distinctive click, one that he had grown used to over the years of using the small machine from which it emitted. His whole body had become cold in horror, and slowly he turned to face Wirt, dread weighing heavy on his chest and crushing his windpipe.

The room didn't seem quite right, straight lines becoming warped, the only really clear thing in the nightmarish scene being his vision's focal point, Wirt's puzzled, then panicked expression when he realized that Dipper had seen him holding his Walkman.

When he had set out earlier on, he had forgotten to put it away, to stash the disc somewhere nobody could ever find it. His guilty pleasure, that one pastel-colored CD and its contents had made him look like the biggest sap, the most cringe-worthy person to have ever walked this planet. And this wasn't like years ago, when Stan had stumbled across him singing to this same album in the bathroom, nor the one time he had indulged with Multi-Bear: he was older now, he had convinced everyone but himself that he was more or less in the 'geeky but cool' crowd, the image he had carefully constructed of a mysterious and intelligent individual crumbling, and all that in front of the one person that he actually liked.

"I-I'm sorry! I r-really like this band, a-and the l-label just caught my eye."

"No! It's not what you think, it's Mab…! Wait, what?" asked Dipper, lower lid of one eye raised in confusion.

"C-can we put it on? Y-you've got a better thing to play this on than a Walkman, right?"

"Y-yeah, of course… Just to get things straight, you like BABBA? Icelandic girly pop band BABBA?"

"Well, I wouldn't c-call it 'girly' per say… 'Sparkly', maybe?"

Dipper, still shook up and not believing his luck, walked over to the small boom box sitting in the corner next to his other discs. At first, he cringed and pulled his head into his shoulders when the first few electronic bars of music emerged from the speakers, the quality so much better than he was used to and sounding incredibly loud to him even though the volume was on minimum. After a few seconds he relaxed though, seeing Wirt with his eyes half closed and head nodding to the beat.

"Disco Giiiirl…"

"Coming throoough…"

"That girl is youuu…!"

Dipper did a little twirl, and Wirt burst out laughing, so much louder and more spontaneously than he had before, but he quickly slapped a hand to his mouth.

"I-I'm sorry! Isn't y-your mother trying to get s-some rest? I'm s-sorry, that was so loud," he apologized, even though his eyes were still wide with glee.

"Nah, she's used to it with Mabel and all. We all are, so don't worry if we don't come running if there's a burglar or something."

He let his hands fall from his mouth, revealing the smile he had on underneath. Laughing, Wirt snatched up the other boy's hand and he pulled him along in a few waltzing steps, before letting go. A little shell-shocked, Dipper couldn't do much more than stare at Wirt with wide eyes and flex his fingers, still tingling from the contact. They stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other openly, admiringly, until the track faded off into the background and the second one came on to replace it. Mutely, Dipper walked over to the boom box and skipped past the sad song, then back to Wirt.

After the fiasco that had been the Wendy incident, he had asked Mabel to teach him how to dance; a few simple ones, none that were too ridiculous or difficult, but that would save him the embarrassment of tripping over his own feet if ever he was to be in such a situation. Being the first time he had to put them in practice without the presence of his sister coaching him aggressively, his smile was a little crooked and his eyes maybe not entirely sane when he offered his hand and uttered the obligatory "Shall we dance?", but all in all he was happy that he had managed to pull it off, even though he was slowly but surely being killed by nerves and held back by shyness. As was to be expected, Wirt blushed ferociously and looked away, but he held his hand out to be taken hesitantly nevertheless. Dipper pulled him forward and twirled him around, bringing him closer as he did, one hand settling high on his dance-partners hip whilst the other still held his fingers, their position a bit awkward as the grip had not relaxed into a form more appropriate for dancing and were instead still holding on as if he was trying to pull him towards himself.

This time, in a way that they hadn't been achieved when they were laughing and kissing lightly on the bed earlier on, they lost themselves completely in each other. Dipper simply let himself go, sucked into Wirt's eyes, throwing his earlier prudishness aside in favor of being completely dead to the world around him apart from the music and Wirt. His partner, on the other hand, kept his gaze averted, but the smile displayed for all to see (as long as they were Dipper, that is) showed how much he was relishing in the close contact.

As the song was approaching the end, the thought suddenly came to the younger of the two boys that this deserved a great finishing move, something to make this moment memorable in a special way for both of them. The last few notes echoed out of the speakers, and Dipper attempted something he had only seen in movies, something that he had ever only fantasized about years ago when Wendy was still a thing. So, completely confident in the success of his action, Dipper attempted a final dip.

It just so happens that daydreams tend to leave out certain important details and focus on the less practical ones, how attractive the other person is. The heart of the problem is that people actually have a certain thing called mass that can be difficult to hold up if you're in an awkward position and not expecting the other person to be so heavy in the first place. Earlier on, Dipper had been fully standing and was holding a strong stance when he caught Wirt mid-fall, allowing him to catch him with ease. Now though, he came to the realization that he maybe wasn't as strong as he thought he was, and that Wirt maybe didn't appreciate or anticipate the dance move in the first place. The fact was that they ended up one on top of the other on the carpet, a tumble provoked by both Dipper's lack of experience in romantic dancing and Wirt's attempt at wriggling out of the uncomfortable, half-falling position that his partner had imposed upon him.

"W-Wirt? Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"Mfine," he said, speech clipped by the lack of air from Dipper having fallen on his torso. "Carpet."

"Oh, right. S-sorry!"

He jumped off of Wirt, finally seeing that he had been unable to sit up from the carpet where he had been lying face-down, and retreated to the furthest corner of the room, as far away from him as possible. Wirt got up, but halfway through he decided against it and sat cross-legged on the big yellow carpet, contentedly nodding his head to the next song. Slowly, Dipper made his way back to where he had been before, an apology on his lips, but he swallowed it back when Wirt looked straight at him despite the furious blush on his cheeks and patted the floor next to him.

The shorter of the two only hesitated for a second before falling to the floor, but instead of sitting next to Wirt as he had suggested, he sat back-to-back with him, his own timidity coming back fully now that the wave of giddiness had disappeared.

The full contact of their backs against each other was just as enjoyable though, a strong feeling that set warm little bubbles aflow inside Dipper's chest. He extended a hand out onto the side, searched around a bit before finding Wirt's and clasping it in his own, seeking the extra bit of contact.

They sat, feeling each other's slow breaths and body heat as they listened to the whole album. The last track petered off to nothing and Dipper glanced up to his puppy clock, seeing that it was a little past the time they would usually eat, and wondering why Mabel hadn't either called them down yet, or even burst into the room without warning. Wirt was the first to get up from his sitting position, a groan that accompanied a stretch sounding as he did. Dipper followed suit and shook his legs about, trying to get the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles to go away. The other boy was over by the boom box, carefully taking the disc and putting it back in the case, stopping to look at the rest of his music collection.

"I'm not sure what to make of this," he said in a not-quite audible voice, no stutter or hesitance, but shy nevertheless.

"What, you don't like 'Bad First Impressions'?" Dipper asked, but he had a feeling that Wirt wasn't criticizing his taste in music.

"No, not that. This."

He made a sweeping motion with his arm, and even though it was vague, Dipper understood. The taller of them busied himself on putting the box away in the shelf next to his other CDs, while the other stayed standing where he was, thinking of an appropriate response to Wirt's question.

"Well, I guess that it is what it is. I couldn't put a word on it, but I don't think it's important to do so."

"I think that that's what's bothering me. Is this like a two-way crush thing?"

Both of them cringed and turned away from each other, the word reigniting their cheeks and dormant timidity.

"You see what I mean? It's better to not put words on it, we're both… really shy. It won't help."

"A-are we s-supposed to th-though? I-I mean, th-this can't be r-right, I-I've known you f-for under t-twenty four hours, a-and… w-well, I've n-never..."

"Liked a guy before? Hey, you're not the only one, same thing here."

"T-True, but I w-wasn't going to s-say that. F-fallen this fast, I guess," he rectified, his voice thick. He took a shuddering breath, and Dipper turned to face him again, seeing his shoulders tremble ever so slightly. "It's a l-little too much, I'm s-sorry. I really m-miss my mom and G-Greg, I feel b-bad for not being th-there for them. I m-mean, he's only l-little, Christmas is s-still a b-big deal for him and all. And all the s-stuff with m-my dad… It sh-shouldn't hurt this m-much, but it does. I d-didn't th-think it would be so b-bad that I'd h-have to run away."

Dipper could only watch hopelessly as Wirt fell apart in front of him. After what he had said, he felt that maybe he would be rejected if he moved to comfort him, and there were no words he would think of that would lessen his pain and not sound meaningless. However, only a few seconds were needed to change his mind, and he moved forward to encircle him in a hug from behind.

As he should have expected, Wirt immediately froze in his embrace.

"Don't," he whispered. "Please, please don't."

The twin let go reluctantly, slowly reestablishing the distance they had had before. "L-Let's just go and eat then," he said instead, trying to keep the distress out of his voice. If he couldn't be of any help, he reasoned, his sister would, even though he wished that he could just take on Wirt's burden all to himself.

"Y-yeah, all right. Can I h-have a tissue b-before we go down though, p-please?"

"Yeah, sure. Mabel's got a box in her room somewhere, I'll go and get you that."

"Thanks."

He soon returned with the mint green tissue paper that had become normal in the house since Mabel had gotten into arts and crafts (that is, as far back as anyone could remember), and handed it to Wirt so he could clean his tears up a bit.

"We'd better go, I think I heard mom go downstairs earlier on, and Mabel will be wanting us down soon..."

"Alright. D-do I look okay?"

His eyes were still red and his face wasn't much better.

"You should maybe splash some cold water on."

"Y-yeah, you're right."

As he entered the bathroom, he quickly glanced in Dipper's direction, who's heart immediately broke when he saw his nervous instinct. He was checking that he wasn't being followed, by him in particular. His throat tightened, the paranoia he sensed in that little bit of body language all too familiar to him. Ford was like that sometimes after a bad night, one of which he woke shouting from. Nobody ever mentioned the disturbances the next day, but they all knew that life on the other side of the portal wasn't something easily sugar-coated, even if they were in the great-uncle's tales that he occasionally told them when they were younger.

Even though it pained him, he could understand them when coming from Ford, but the mannerisms were otherwise very disturbing to observe in a person as young as Wirt. He had been through something, something deeply upsetting, something that made him paranoid and made him doubt trust he had shown that he could otherwise give out in spades. Maybe it would pass once the mental distress is appeased, but Dipper, partly because he was naturally curious and nosy, but mainly because he cares so much for Wirt, was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Wirt reemerged, now looking quite a bit better with red eyes a paler color and tears gone. He tried a wobbly smile at him, but without much success. Instead, he walked down the stairs towards the glorious smell coming from below.

The table was set and dishes were waiting on the sideboards, ready to be put down on the table's central mat. Mabel and her father were seemingly having an argument over some convoluted cooking detail, but the smiles that accompanied their energetic dialogue proved that it was indeed a mock. The twin's mother stood to the side, looking upon the scene adoringly, but glanced up when she perceived her son and their guest's presence.

"I was just about to call you boys, we're about to serve up!"

Dipper nodded, again trying not to attract Mabel and his dad's attention, thinking that maybe their combined overwhelming dotting might not be what a still fragile Wirt would want in priority. Their attention remained elsewhere though, so there wasn't too much of a chance of that.

Mabel didn't struggle with the large, overfillled dish like she had the year prior, a growth spurt having taken care of that, but Wirt couldn't help cringing away as she brushed past him with the red-hot casserole, only isolated from her hands by a pair of googly-eyed over mitts. As before, the meal was quite silent, apart for comments on the food that tagged naturally onto the previous intense conversation they had had, talking about on what kind of spices would have maybe given the beef dish a different and maybe more appreciable taste. This didn't impact Dipper though, who wasn't too much of a picky eater and simply cleared his plate and served himself as much as he wanted, as usual. Wirt, however, was another story.

As much as he had been a willing eater before, now he picked at the contents of his plate, most of the meat pushed aside in favor of the more liquid part of the meal. He looked like he was trying, but he was struggling, that much was for sure. Everyone at the table had noticed this, he could see that in the look his parents exchanged and he himself did with his sister, but nothing was said until their guest finally relented and set his spoon down with a sigh.

"Wirt… are you feeling alright?"

His head snapped up at the table's oldest woman's question, a little flustered.

"Um, I… I'm sorry, it isn't v-very polite, but…"

"We understand, don't worry about it. You look exhausted, how about you skip out on dessert and go directly to bed? A good night's sleep won't hurt."

He didn't move, head having fallen back to look at his plate and hands fisted loosely on either of his sides. There was conflict on his face, that much was visible anyway, but finally he raised his head and nodded.

"Thank you for the m-meal Mabel, it was delicious," Wirt said, to which Mabel raised her spoon in thanks, mouth too full at the time to reply to the comment properly. He looked at the two adults at the table, both of whom nodded at him, and he got up and quietly made his way upstairs. As soon as he was gone, all eyes returned to Dipper, all their expressions silently demanding, and maybe even a little accusing, but they quickly returned to eating silently when he showed no intention of speaking up.

It was weird, really. Even though he hadn't been around long, it felt like there was something missing at the kitchen table now that he was gone. The empty chair that had been left and the absence of his plate, which had been placed in the sink on his way out, didn't feel right. Dipper finished off his plate quickly, excused himself and put a few cookies on a plate, which he then headed upstairs with. His family understood the value of comfort food and let him do so, finishing off their own meals when he left the room.

He was going to have an early night anyway, but he really needed to see Wirt again, at least once before heading off to bed himself. There were the cookies that he was planning on giving him, but he probably needed pajamas and such as well, and besides, he couldn't really go to sleep knowing that Wirt was uncomfortable in any way.

As he had thought, his door was closed when he got to it; balancing the plate on one of his hands, he knocked on one of the panels timidly, receiving a quiet 'yes' in response. He walked into the room, unsurprised when he saw Wirt sitting on the bed with the notebook he had had in the bus held in his hands, snapping it closed as Dipper came closer.

"Hey, I know you may not be hungry now, but I thought you might want to eat something if you wake up in the middle of the night hungry," Dipper explained, setting the plate on his desk.

"Thanks," Wirt mumbled in response, his face still directed at his lap, fingers tracing over the design on the notebook's cover. Dipper stepped forward and sat down on the bed tentatively, relaxing a little when he received no immediate reaction from the other teen, observing him out of the corner of his eye. Wirt didn't say anything, simply continuing to trace the spirals in the cardboard. He was composing himself, Dipper realized, as Wirt's fingers settled and his position straightened when he was finally ready to speak. "I r-really shouldn't have done that. It w-was really rude, l-leaving the table like that, and… I apologize."

"We told you already, it's fine. We understand that-"

"No, that's n-not the only thing," he interrupted the younger boy. "That's not the only th-thing," he repeated a little more softly, raising his eyes to look at Dipper again. "I was… I've b-been absolutely vile to you. I d-didn't want to reject you, I know… I know you only w-wanted to comfort me, b-but I didn't think..."

This time, Dipper didn't hesitate in shuffling over and hugging Wirt's side; he wasn't shoved away, either; on the contrary, Wirt leaned into it, letting the other boy take on the weight of his upper body.

There was something about the near-platonic physical contact that was inherently calming, and Dipper felt tension leech out of him that he hadn't known was there in the first place. He had been taking on Wirt's stress, his naturally worrisome self catching on to his crush's lack of well-being and suffering along with him. It was necessary, he now understood, that they have this kind of moment, not particularly romantic, just a couple of minutes to take a breather before setting off on the roller-coaster of emotion that they were both currently embarked on. This is what Mabel would have done if she were in his place right now, he knew.

Slowly, they separated and took on their previous positions, and Dipper decided that it was a good moment to do what he had come here for in the first place, despite the fact that he didn't really feel like breaking the atmosphere with spoken words.

"If I'm not mistaken, you need a toothbrush and something to wear for the night. I guess you're about the same size as me. Even though you're a little taller I'm a bit chubbier, so it should even out..."

Wirt shot him a disbelieving look. "You? Chubby? I thought it was all muscle," he added teasingly, his cheeks coloring a little nonetheless.

"Aw, really, you flatter me," Dipper replied using the same tone. "I guess that that's what you get from overindulging in the holidays, I guess. Take notes, Wirt: build muscle by eating as much sugary and fatty foods as you can get your hands on. Yep, only true diet out there. Definitely."

He didn't laugh, but his smile wasn't sad anymore, which could only be a good thing in Dipper's opinion. He turned his attention to his wardrobe, pulling out the draw that contained his usual sleeping clothes and trying to find something that wouldn't be too small on Wirt.

"Is a T-shirt and shorts OK?"

"You don't have t-to do this, you know," Wirt muttered, but nevertheless relented: "Yeah, sure."

Dipper pulled out a shirt he had not worn in a while, one that was still folded up, and he was therefore assured that it was truly clean rather than something he had just balled up and shoved into his draw after having worn it once or twice, this kind of treatment common to all his clothes that he didn't consider to be dirty enough to warrant the hamper.

"Here," he said, chucking the shirt over his shoulder towards Wirt. He found a pair of shorts that weren't too bad either and passed them to him as well, taking his own necessities as he did. "I'll get you a towel and other stuff like that. Dad's probably going to take a shower later, so if you want to take one, you'd better do it now."

"That's j-just a polite way of saying that I stink," the other boy pointed out, but not without an accompanying chuckle.

"It may or may not. I'm not the greatest expert in personal hygiene myself, so..."

"Hmm."

That put an abrupt end to the conversation. Wirt wasn't in the mood for playful banter, it seemed, and he was probably tired. He was a pretty quiet guy after all, and he had been through a lot recently. He was perfectly in his right to want to just get to sleep as quickly as possible and to ignore his numerous quips.

"Here: Toothbrush, towel, flannel. Anything else you need?" Dipper asked, and Wirt simply shook his head, stifling a yawn in his hand. "Alright, I'll just let you to get along with it th-"

He was cut off by the slight forward movement that Wirt had initiated in Dipper's direction. Slowly, he took his hands, both of them, and moved forward to bump his forehead lightly against the younger boy's.

Both their breaths hitched at the same time, Wirt maybe just realizing through his sleepiness just what he was doing, and Dipper trying with all his might to stop his knees from turning to jelly and collapsing under him. Sparks flew up his forearms from where their palms came in contact, and in an odd moment of lucidity before his mind went blank and his mouth dry, he reflected on how cool Wirt's forehead was against his, like porcelain.

After that, there was only Wirt, nothing but Wirt, the intensity of his presence stronger than it had ever been before, and frankly, Dipper wasn't sure whether he had ever felt better, more alive than he did in that one moment. They were now breathing in sync, sharing the air between them. Again, they were so close to kissing, with nothing this time like pesky timetables to interrupt them or pull them apart…

Suddenly (or maybe it wasn't sudden. Maybe it just seemed that way because Dipper hadn't been expecting it, as lost in the moment as he was), Wirt pulled away, turned his back on Dipper, and muttered a quick "Good night."

He couldn't move, his body rigid from head to toe, as if the sparks that had danced along with the grasshoppers earlier on had suddenly turned into a bolt of lightening, deadening his nerves and paralyzing his muscles. He shook out of his state eventually, but by then Wirt had finished brushing his teeth and had retreated to his room, not sparing him more than a glance before he left the bathroom. Still dazed, Dipper brushed his own teeth, trying to get his brain to work properly as he repeated the mechanical action over and over, trying to make sense of the sudden rejection again.

It was only by the time that he had snuggled deep into the couch, between the large cushions that really weren't that uncomfortable, that he came to the conclusion that Wirt maybe wasn't ready for this yet. He had, after all, made it perfectly clear earlier on with his miniature breakdown, but Dipper had been under the impression that they had somehow 'made up'. No matter what his sister claimed, hugs didn't solve everything, and truly if that brief interaction they had had in the bathroom had come to a conclusion, it might well have been the straw to break the camel's back as far as Wirt was concerned.

His parents passed by, saying their goodnights to him as they made their way up the stairs through his improvised bedroom, and Dipper returned them half-heartedly, chest still heavy with disappointment. He rolled over onto his side, knowing full well that despite the longing he was subjected to, he was going to be patient and wait for Wirt. Forcing his hand would be the worst mistake that he could make in this situation, and besides, it would be extremely egoistic of him to do so. He had to help him work through these hard times as best as he could, either by being there when he was needed or by distancing himself and letting Wirt work his own way around problems when circumstances called for it.

It was going to be difficult and possibly long, but he was doing this not for himself, he came to understand, but for Wirt. He didn't matter in all this, it was Wirt that he wanted to see happy and well, and even if he was rejected, even if they were forever forced to make no further moves than the ones that the older teen had showed that he was willing of doing today, Dipper would be happy, simply and solely because Wirt was.

And on this note, he fell asleep soundly, not even disturbed by the patter of his sister's feet as she made her way up the stairs nor the rush of the shower that soon followed. Wirt was upstairs, sleeping in his bed, as safe as he knew he could be, and he himself had found his purpose. Now, he just had stick with it, and make Wirt's stay here an occasion to soothe his pains and maybe have a good time, for a change.

* * *

 _So this is the first chapter out of six (plus maybe an epilogue, but I'm nowhere near there yet), and as for the update date for the next one… There isn't one! I've got so many fics to write, finish and writer's block to work past already that this is probably going to stay on standby for a while, unless I get hit with a huge wave of inspiration (*winks* *points at review button* *winks again for good measure*), there probably will not be an update for a while yet, so y'know… don't despair, I guess?_

 _Whatever the case, thanks for reading!_


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